


Rocking Steady

by tsukinofaerii



Series: Wildflowers and Werewolves [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Feral Behavior, Mildly Dubious Consent, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kate had to choose between killing werewolves and babysitting her eleven year old niece, she decided to combine them with terrible consequences. As a result, Allison hid in the woods for six years, until she came across a man with glowing blue eyes. What else was she supposed to be hit him upside the head with a rock? The sex is just a benefit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocking Steady

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from Oridinaryink, who is forever my enabler. Please see the bottom for specific trigger warnings and notes. Not precisely beta'd. Sorry. D:

"She's eleven years old, Chris!" Aunt Kate said into the cell phone, voice soft and wheedling. One of her hands tapped on the steering wheel of the SUV nervously. "She can be home alone for a few hours. I just have some errands to run. She won't even know I'm gone— _yes_ it has to be done tonight." 

Allison clutched teddy bear to her chest and tried to look like she was watching the sky instead of listening. It was nearly nine o'clock, which was usually her bedtime, but they were parked in a lot instead of anywhere near home. They'd been running errands _all day_. Allison was tired, and bored, and just wanted to go home and go to bed with Mr. Bear. Aunt hadn't really wanted to watch her to start with, and now she was trying to get rid of her. It was completely against everything Aunt Kate usually was, and it made Allison almost spitefully glad that her dad wasn't going along with it

Aunt Kate made a face, then sighed. "Fine. But you owe me one," she told the phone, flipping it closed before Allison's dad could say anything. 

"You can take me home," Allison said quietly, staring down at her toes. Her sneakers lit up bright pink when she tapped them just right. "I won't tell Dad."

"But the security cameras will, Sweetie." Aunt Kate reached over and ruffled her hair. "Looks like you're just going to have to hang out with me for a while longer while I do boring adult stuff. You don't mind, do you?"

Wordlessly, Allison shook her head, watching Aunt Kate out of the corner of her eye. She made her sneakers light up again. 

For a long second, Aunt Kate stared at her. It was long enough that Allison started squirming, shoulders hunching in. Then Aunt Kate kissed her temple loudly and started the car. "Your dad's going to be _really_ pissed off," she said conversationally as they started backing out of their parking spot. "So you're going to have to keep this a secret, okay?" 

Allison's stomach sank. She turned her head to watch the cars pass them by. "You're going to leave me anyway?" she asked. "Even with the cameras?" It wasn't that she didn't want to be alone. She was almost _twelve_ , after all. That was almost a teenager. But she didn't like being treated like something to be taken care of, like Mr. Bear.

"Oh, no, honey, _no_." The SUV jerked a little as Aunt Kate pulled out into traffic, but as soon as they were on a straight road she reached out and took Allison's hand. "But you know that errand I have to do?" She didn't wait for Allison to nod, just kept talking. "It's sort of this huge family thing. Your dad doesn't want you to know about it yet. But since he said you have to stay with me anyway..."

"You're going to tell me?" Allison perked up hopefully.

They slowed at a corner, the right-turn blinker clicking as it flashed. Aunt Kate took the chance to shoot Allison a bubbly, mischievous smile. "Even better. You're going to help me with it. Think you're up for it?"

Allison smiled back and nodded eagerly, hugging Mr. Bear since she couldn't hug Aunt Kate. Jugs of chemicals sloshed in the back of the SUV as they took a turn toward the Beacon Hills Preserve.

* * *

Fire.

The family thing Kate wanted to show her was fire.

_"Werewolves," Aunt Kate said. She was serious, Allison could tell, because she wasn't smiling. "They're werewolves, so you have to be really quiet or they'll hear you."_

The men who had been waiting for them hadn't been happy to have a tagalong, and so Allison had just hung back where she wouldn't get in the way. It didn't really hit her what was happening, why they were spilling stuff around a building until Aunt Kate lit the match and an entire wall went up in flames. 

Then people started screaming. 

Aunt Kate started pulling her away, saying they needed to leave. Allison dug in her heels. "But—" She craned her head, looking back at the house. People were hurt—they were trapped, and the house was burning—Aunt Kate _set the house on fire_ , why—and they were just going to _go_? The door wasn't on fire yet, and it was unlocked. She knew it was, they'd checked it, they could—

Before she'd really thought things through, Allison yanked out of her aunt's grasp and ran for the door, Mr. Bear still tucked under one arm. Aunt Kate yelled somewhere behind her, but Allison didn't stop to look. 

Inside, the house was filling with smoke. They'd spread the chemicals so it wouldn't all go up at once, but it was burning fast. Things started to creak overhead, groaning ominously. Already the stairs were alight, and there was fire crawling up the walls. Allison coughed, throat stinging already from the heat and the smoke. 

The yells were coming from downstairs. Basement. She started looking for doors, covering her mouth with her shirt when the smoke got too bad. There was one door in the kitchen that looked like it might be the right one. It was already on fire, a dark line of something that burned blue blocking the way. 

"Allison!"

Behind her, something creaked, then cracked, and finally crashed. A wall of fire smashed down as part of the ceiling caved in. The floor underfoot buckled, sending Allison staggering into one of the burning walls. She screamed as pain flared up over her back, then coughed when she inhaled a lungful of smoke. She hit her knees gasping for air, Mr. Bear squashed under her palm.

Terror more than pain kept her from getting up again. It hurt and the house was falling apart and she didn't know what to do. The entire house was on fire, now, walls and floor and ceiling, fire every way she looked. _I'm going to die_ , she realized. The thought felt fuzzy and distant, her brain starting to turn in circles. She'd killed these people, and she was going to die.

But the door was _right there_. She could still see the blue fire through the blurriness, could hear people screaming, a dog howling somewhere, crying, hurting. Keeping down, Allison started to crawl for the door. Every move stung her back and her leg was hurt too, but there were people, and _she could do it_. 

She was almost to the blue fire when someone grabbed her up by the waist, yanking her up off the floor. Aunt Kate clutched Allison to her chest, hunching as she carried Allison to a tiny kitchen window, the only one in sight. Aunt Kate didn't try to open it, just smashed the pane with her elbow. Glass was still sticking up like monster teeth as she shoved Allison through into the smoky night air.

" _Run_!" 

Allison choked and staggered to her feet, following orders blindly. The house was right on the edge of the preserve. It didn't take long before the trees swallowed her up.

Roots and dropped limbs tugged at her ankles, tripped her up. Her back and legs and the whole side of her head hurt, and everything was blurry and stung and she just wanted to _stop_ and rest but she couldn't make her legs listen. She ran and ran until the ground dropped away and icy cold water splashed up around her ankles. Where water ran over her burns they flared up with throbbing pain, but it faded into cool relief after a second.

It wasn't completely dark; the moon was full, but it wasn't enough for her to really _see_ , not while her eyes were clogged.Biting back her sobs— _don't cry_ , her mother always said _don't cry, just get it done_ —Allison sat down and tried to splash the water up over the burns that she couldn't get submerged. The stinging pain made her breath hitch, but she kept it up until the water had turned everything numb.

Mr. Bear bobbed in the water beside her, paw still clenched in her hand free hand. One of his ears had been charred, and most of his shirt. Sniffling, Allison splashed water over his hurts, too, until he was soggy and heavy.

When she couldn't stand the cold anymore, she pulled herself out of the water, climbing up the bank until there was a tree root she could cling to. Light from the house fire rose up into the sky, an orange glow just over the tree tops. If she listened, she could hear it crackling, hear the shouts and sirens. There weren't any more screams.

 _She'd_ done that. There'd been people in there, and she'd helped set them on fire. It didn't matter if Aunt Kate said they were werewolves, they were dead. They were dead, and Aunt Kate was dead, and she was a _murderer_. They'd have to send her to jail if they caught her. 

A cool, early-spring breeze blew over the back of her neck, carrying with it the smell of smoke. Coughing a little, Allison curled up in the crook of the tree roots and held Mr. Bear so tight that water ran down to pool in her lap. Her scalp stung when she bowed her head to kiss his head, hair pulling on her singed scalp. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bear. We can't go home now."

* * *

_ Six years later _

She padded through the trees at the edge of a clearing, sling swinging loosely by her knees. At the far end of the clearing, the buck was still nibbling on the loose bark of a winter-dead tree. It was young and nervous, but hungry. She could see its ribs; it had been a hard winter for everyone. 

For hunting, she'd knotted her tangled brown hair back with a stick to keep it out of the way. It was a cold day, so her feet were wrapped in thick, warm hides, but she hadn't worried about more than that. Anything she wore would risk getting caught on a branch, and that sort of mistake could cost her a meal she couldn't afford to lose. 

Breathing out, she took aim, letting the swirl of her sling get faster, rising above her head. The buck froze, skittered aside, turning to look at something behind it. A second later, the woods cracked to life and the buck sprang off.

Lip curling in anger, she turned her attention to what had startled the buck. Predator or prey, both were food. She stayed still and quiet, crouched down with her sling spinning until the branches at the tree line moved. Then she let the rock fly. It cracked against bone, bright red splattering over a tree as the animal went down. Before it could get over being stunned, she scrambled across the clearing, sharp rock clutched in her other hand to end whatever it was.

It was a person. 

It had been a long, long time since she'd seen a person up close—not since the fire, really. Slowly, she inched forward, quiet as a ground squirrel, fingers loose around her weapon. The person—man—groaned, naked shoulders rolling as he started to push to his knees, black ink seeming to move with his muscles. Blood stained his hair, dripped down his jaw where her rock had hit him. 

"What the _hell_..." he muttered, shaking his head. He must have caught sight of her. His head turned, lips pulled back to bare fangs that hadn't been there a second ago, growling.

She reacted on instinct, lashing out with the rock. His eyes flared brilliant blue. Then her rock connected with his temple and he slumped again, quiet. Cautiously, she inched forward and prodded him. When he still didn't move, she stared at him for a long moment, thinking.

She could just leave him. Probably nothing would kill him before he woke up. But that seemed wrong, somehow. He was the first person she'd seen up close in a long time, and she might not see another for years. 

Decided, she nodded to herself and stowed her tools in the pouch that hung around her waist. She picked up and stowed the rock she'd slung at him; good, round rocks were hard to find. Then she squatted to heft the man over her shoulders. He was heavy, but she was strong enough as long as she let his legs drag. 

A few minutes later, the clearing was empty of anything more than bloodstains and last year's leaves.

* * *

For winter denning, she'd taken over a spot that used to belong to a bear, a space hollowed out under the bulk of a fallen tree. There was plenty of room for two of them, and it was out of the wind and most of the weather. Come spring, it would fill up with rain water, but during the winter it was good. 

It took a long time to get the man there. He was heavy, all muscle, and she had to stop and hit him again every few minutes when he started to wake up. By the time they were back, the sun was setting behind the trees, and the wind had turned bitter. She settled him in the back, using bits of dried sinew to tie his wrists and ankles and keep him from running. Tomorrow she could take him to the edge of the woods and let him go. 

Once he was good and tied, she grabbed Mr. Bear and sat down on the far wall, pulled her knees up to her chest and waited. He was... nice to look at, with arms that were thick with muscle and a broad chest that tapered down to a small waist. Dark hair scattered over his cheeks and jaw. Her fingers twitched to see if it was as soft as it looked. 

She hoped she didn't have to kill him. 

The den started to warm up fast with two of them, maybe for the first time ever. The wind rattled the trees outside, moaned through the branches. Almost none of it found its way in. Unlike the sunlight, which slanted across the floor at a sharp angle to spill over the back wall. Her eyes never left the man, watching as his chest rose and fell, as the bruise at his temple turned purple, then green, like it was already healing. 

He started to stir, groaning. She rocked forward on her feet, poised to leap if he tried anything. All he did was raised a hand to touch his face, then jerk upright when he realized his hands were tied at the wrist. For a second he stared, obviously taking in everything, and then tried to pull his wrists apart. The cords strained as he tested them.

When they started to stretch too far, she growled and picked up one of the large rocks that she kept for breaking open nuts. He growled back, head whipping around, eyes back to that same glowing blue. His nostrils flared. Then he blinked in what looked like surprise, and they were back to normal.

"You're human?" 

She bared her teeth in answer and settled back on her heels, still holding the rock in case he made her use it. 

After a second, the man settled back in, moving slowly, eyes on the rock in her hand. "Laura gets news about a werewolf in the woods, and it's some kid playing Jungle Book. Freaking figures." 

At the word _werewolf_ she went rigid. Air got hard to find; her chest was tight, like the winter she'd gotten the fever, and the old scars on her back twinged in remembered pain. _Werewolf_. Aunt Kate had said the people in the house were that. 

If he saw her weakness, the man didn't do anything. He just watched. It reminded her of the way the coyotes watched her, predator to predator. Then his eyes went to Mr. Bear at her feet. He was old now, raggedy. She'd done her best to keep him safe, but it was hard enough keeping herself safe. There was no denying what he was, though his jacket had become bandages, and one of his ears was long gone. 

When he looked at her face again, there was something different in his expression. Gentler. She didn't think she liked it. "What's your name? I'm Derek."

She shrugged. She didn't care what his name was. There was only the two of them, after all. And soon he'd be dead or gone.

"What are you going to do with me?" He struggled to sit up straighter without straining his bonds. "You can't just keep me here!" 

Another shrug, but she settled back some more. He wasn't going to make her kill him yet. That was good. She'd have hated to have dragged him back all this way just to have to drag him away again. That much meat in the den would attract ants. 

The sun was setting, the line of the light that filled the den starting to creep away. In the darkness, his eyes shined like a coyote's again, green-yellow where the little trickles of light hit them. She waited until the last bit of sun left and the den was turning blue-grey with twilight. Then she crept to the opening and grabbed the desiccated bush that was pushed off to the side. A little tugging and it blocked the way. If something tried to come in, it would rattle and warn her. 

With the bush good and secure, she turned back to him. His eyes had gone blue again. Huffing, she crawled over and shoved him back down. She pulled the stick from her hair, tucked Mr. Bear into the crook of his arm and curled up along his side. He was warm, and even with the den closed up it got cold at night.

"You can't be serious."

Tucking her chin up on his chest, she raised her eyebrows and looked at him in the little bit of light there still was. Pointedly, she laid down again and closed her eyes. He grumbled, but she ignored it and, before long, drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Something cracked, and a wolf howled in the distance. Her eyes snapped open and she held her breath. No light leaked through the den's entrance; the moon was almost new, and the bush blocked what little light might have leaked through. She waited, tense, but whatever it was didn't happen again, and slowly she relaxed. 

Under her head, the man's chest rose and fell in the easy rhythm of sleep. It was more comfortable than she thought it would be, all that muscle surprisingly soft when it wasn't in use. Sighing softly, she rubbed her cheek against it and inched closer, leg stretching out over the top of his. 

After a few minutes, anxiously fidgeting while she waited for sleep to return, she finally gave up. Sitting up, she looked around to judge the time, but the den was the pitch black of night still. Under her hand, the man's chest kept rising, steady and smooth. Her weight didn't seem to bother him at all.  
Curiously, she petted down his chest, feeling the muscles expand and contract, the smooth slide of skin over them. Then she reached up. It took some careful work, following the line of his shoulders, then the tendons in his neck before she found his beard. Her fingers skittered over it, petting. It _was_ as soft as it looked. Softer, really. She stroked it again, looking down as if she could see him. For a moment, just one flash of one, she missed humanity. She missed people, and touches, and _words_.

She didn't realize his breathing had changed until the face under her fingers moved. "You're smiling."

Her fingers froze, the smile he'd somehow known about dropping away. Blue flared in the dark, bright, glowing blue, like the color of the sky when the sun was just right and the water was perfect. _Werewolf_. Just like Aunt Kate had said. 

Clenching her jaw stubbornly, Allison let her hand slide back down and followed the muscles to where a line of hair tickled between her fingers. He hissed, but didn't say anything as she let her hands wander, using them where her eyes were no good. Her fingers played along his breastbone, dipped at the bumps of his abs. The cut of his hips slid under her palms, rounded by even more muscle that led down to the tight waistband of his jeans.

She hesitated, nails scraping over the denim. She'd never—there hadn't been _people_ , but she had urges. Feelings, thoughts, dreams. Sometimes she used her hands, but here was a person, and she was curious. After only a bit of debate, she reached for the button, prying it out of its hole and pulling down the zipper. He hissed, hips rising to help as she pushed his jeans down, dragging his underwear with it.

Once again, she let her hands do the work. Straddling one of his legs, she set in to explore. There was more hair on his legs, thick and rough against her inner thighs and palms. It turned thicker the higher up she went, until it suddenly came together right at his crotch. Which made sense—she had hair in all the same places. And right there in the center of it was his dick, half-soft, pliant. 

She wasn't completely stupid. Before the fire, she'd gotten some talks, done some worksheets. And people came to the woods, high school kids, hikers, couples on picnics. It had been easy to figure out what they were doing. But it wasn't at all the same as having him right _there_ , breathing heavily when she touched him, starting to get hard.

What would it be like to try? Just a little, just _something_? When would she ever get a chance again? 

Pursing her lips, she petted long, smooth line of his dick, thinking. It fit just right in the curve of her palm, letting her feel as it slowly started to get thicker. When she moved her wrist, he seemed to like it more. At least, his dick did. The tip was starting to get a little damp, and the skin was tighter. Leaning down, she found the tip and licked it curiously. It tasted sharp and salty, unpleasant enough to make her wrinkle her nose. She did it again before pulling away, a smirk curving her lips when his hips jerked and he moaned.

"You—Why—" 

She growled, snapping when his fingertips touched her cheek. Didn't he _ever_ shut up? Twisting her hand some more, she pulled on his dick sharply. It didn't keep him quiet, but whatever he had to say got lost in a moan, which was good enough. The air in the den was starting to get even warming, to smell musky, like it did the times she used her hand.

Then his knees bent, bracing himself to sit up. In a flash, she put a hand into the center of his chest and shoved him back down. At first, there was pressure, like pushing against a tree, but then he went down flat again. She leaned her weight down on him, lips curled in a snarl he couldn't see, nails biting into his skin. The thump of his heart fast and strong under her palm, and the way she was leaning let his dick brush against her stomach.

 _Stay_.

They stayed that way until he went lax under her, no longer resisting. She kissed his shoulder as a reward, rubbing along his chest soothingly. This time, she kept one hand on him while the other wrapped around his dick. She liked the way his breath hitched, how his back arched when her hands moved lower, the sounds he made. Sometimes his eyes glowed blue, and she liked that, too. 

She explored lazily, trailing her fingers over his skin, down between his thighs. A touch behind his balls made him shiver, and lower made him groan and stretch. He moved under her, not trying to get away anymore, just moving. Then his leg flexed between hers, pressing up against her cunt. 

The touch made her hiss and rock down, riding his thigh. She gasped and leaned down, rocking harder. Shivers ran through her as she worked herself against him. Pressing her weight harder against his chest, she slid up, moving to straddle his hips instead of his thigh and doing it again, feeling him slide between her legs. 

His fingers dug into her leg as she rolled her hips against him, gripping tight like he needed something to hold on to. She'd gotten slick as she played with him, skin hot with want. It eased the way, made her moan when he pressed against her just right. The head of his dick brushed right against the front of her. When it slipped and pushed against her entrance, she jerked and gasped, forcing herself down until she'd taken all of him. 

Under her, his entire body rolled, tossing her forward against his chest. She cried out, arching as he stretched her open, slumped forward his chest. Something snapped, stinging her thigh. Then he was gripping her hips, steadying her as she rode him.

The sounds of them moving together filled the den. Leaning forward was the best part. When she did that, something extra jolted through her. She rocked faster, harder, until those little lightning strikes became almost constant. His moans were silent, but she could feel them rumble against her hands. The vibration played up her arms, too soft to hear but inescapably there. 

It built until she cried out, entire body jerking in a rush of pleasure so strong that she ended up slumped over him, dazed until she thought to move again. Her body was still buzzing, and it didn't take long for the release to build up a second time. She rode him through it, scratching his chest with ragged, chewed-short nails. 

He jerked, voice rising into a long groan before he went still, wet heat rushing to fill her. She let herself fall forward, forehead resting against his collarbone. Her whole body felt limp and comfortably sore. 

One of his hands ran down her back, rubbing over the burn scars that littered it. Something tickled her spine, dragging loosing over her skin. She grumbled, turning her head to burrow in deeper when it tickled between her shoulders.

Then she went still while his hand rubbed a circle at the back of her neck. His _free_ hand.

Under her, he froze too, clearly realizing what had happened.

There was no telling which of them moved first. He bucked her off, but she was already rolling, feeling around in the dark for a rock. Her palm closed around it quickly, used to working without light to see by. As soon as she was armed, she threw herself at the place she guessed him to be, slamming her rock against whatever came first. It slid right by him, grazing something before it cracked against the wall of the den. 

One of his hands wrapped around her wrist, squeezing, sharp nails biting into her skin. The bones in her wrist ground together until she cried out, kicking out to try and get free. She connected with something that crunched like bone. 

He roared, letting go of her wrist. It vibrated down through her stomach, froze her blood. Instinctively she dropped and scrambled away. The bush at the entrance rattled, a bit of starlight shining through. 

And then the den was empty again.

* * *

The next day was for hunting. It was a cold, miserable day and she would have rather hid in her den, but the scraps she'd had left were almost gone. Hunger was a sharp pinch in her belly that drive her forward. There wasn't time to think about the man, or how he'd made her feel, how strangely nice it had been to not be alone. It had happened, and it was done. There were more important things. So as soon as the sky was turning lighter, she collected her rocks and her sling, the broken sinew from the man's bindings, and she went out. 

The pickings weren't good. 

She spent all day hunting anything that was too slow or too old to get away, but it was like all the animals had been scared away. The squirrels stayed high in the trees, and the rabbits hid in their burrows. Even the deer, which were down from the north for the winter, were gone. By the time the sun was setting, all she'd managed was some nuts scavenged from a squirrel's stash and a scavenged carcass that was probably too old to eat anyway.

The nuts rattled in her pouch as she scrambled through the woods, not nearly enough for the night, but they would have to do. There'd be better food tomorrow. Or the day after. There would have to be. Her only other choice was to go near people, and she'd had enough of that. 

As soon as the den was in sight, she paused. The bush was pulled aside more than she'd left it, and there was a new trail in the fallen leaves that crossed the one she usually used. Crouching down, she inched up to the spot poked it, looking for rope or traps in the damp mass of rotting leaves. There wasn't anything, though—just a displaced leaves here, some scattered dirt there. 

Still cautious, she loaded one of her better rocks into her sling and edged closer to the mouth of the den. If something else had taken up residence, it probably wouldn't like being rousted out any more than she did.

There wasn't an animal in the den, though. What was there was even stranger: a chunk of meat, sitting on a plate. It was cooked to a warm brown, and still steaming slightly in the winter air. Mr. Bear sat beside it, a bright red bow around his neck. Her stomach growled, and she hesitated. She was hungry, and food was hard to find even when it wasn't winter, but...

Shaking her head, she took a step away from the den. 

"Go ahead and eat it. It's not poisoned or anything."

She whipped around and snarled, throwing one of her rocks. 

The woman who'd spoken caught it in one hand without even flinching. "Good aim." 

Next to her, a man— _the_ man, her man, the one who'd escaped—shrugged. He'd finally put on a shirt, and there was no sign of the bruises. "I told you, Laura. She's good."

"You said she hit you. That's not actually hard." The woman stepped forward, palms up and out. She was tall and lean, black hair pulled up into a ponytail that danced around her shoulders. When they were next to each other, there was no doubt that they were related. Their faces were both sharp, with high cheek bones and the same eyes. "We don't want to hurt you." 

Another snarl slipped out. The den wasn't safe—they'd been there, they could have put in traps, they could keep her in there—but they were spread out enough that if she ran they could catch her easily. So she kept her back to the fallen tree, watching, waiting for her chance. She still had another rock. She could still fight.

The woman didn't get close enough for her to use the rock, though. She stopped a body length away and crouched down. Fading sunlight caught her eyes, made them look as red as the man's had been blue. "I'm Laura. You can go eat. Derek said he'd gotten in the way of your meal yesterday."

Behind her, the man crossed his arms and looked away. "She doesn't speak."

A quick, playful smile twisted the woman's lips, but she didn't take her eyes away. "That doesn't mean she doesn't understand. Do you?" 

Her eyes darted between them, uncertain. Then she nodded, short and sharp. 

The woman's smile widened. Her teeth were sharper than they should have been. Pointy. "So. Are you going to eat?" 

In answer, she leaned back against the log that formed the den's top. She'd eat when they were gone and it was safe. Maybe. The sun was starting to reach that gap in the trees that hit the entrance of the den. It was warm where it touched her skin, but it wouldn't be so for long. It might be better to hold on to the meat, in case she couldn't find food tomorrow. Then it would be a good backup. 

"Okay." With a shrug, the woman settled down in the leaves, like she realized that it would be over if she tried to get up. "So, you like Derek?"

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She curled her lips to bare her teeth. 

The man blushed too, red climbing up to color even his ears. "Laura!" 

"What? She reeks of you. I'm starting to see what you meant about a busy night." The woman twisted to look back. "She's cute. She'll be cuter if we can get her a bath and a hair brush."

"You're not—" the man— _Derek_ —sputtered, indignant. "She's not a puppy. We can't just take her in. We should call the cops." 

She flinched, hunching in on herself. 

"I don't think she likes that idea. Why can't we just take her in?" Laura looked back at her, expression relaxed. She was completely in control, and it showed. "If she wants it. It must be tough, living out here like this. Is it?"

She shook her head before she even realized what she was doing. It was easy to get off guard. They were so soft with each other. Easy. She missed that, missed people, touching. Maybe it was because Laura was a girl, too, but something about her invited trust. Laura would take care of her, if she let her.

It would be nice to stop hiding, finally. If they weren't going to the police...

As if she could read thoughts, Laura leaned forward, expression turning victorious. "What's your name, cub?" 

Sounds rested on the tip of her tongue; she had to frame her lips around them, not sure she could form the words. When had she used words last? Her throat had been hurt so badly after the fire, and then she'd just stopped. Never started again. It hadn't seemed worth it. 

But the sounds formed, syllables stringing together slowly. "A—All-ison." Her voice croaked with disuse, rough and dry. She swallowed and licked her lips, looking down at her fur-wrapped feet. The name sounded too strange in her own ears for comfort. Like it didn't belong to her anymore. And maybe it didn't. Maybe she wasn't Allison anymore. Allison hadn't been a murderer. 

But maybe she could make up for that, if she went with them. Maybe.

Leaves crackled right beside her. She jerked away, but Derek was only settling his jacket over her shoulders. It was still warm, and smelled faintly of dirt and fur. She hunched into it, pulling it up around her ears.

Laura's eyes were bright, glowing red as she held out her hands. Hesitantly, Allison stepped forward, taking one of them and lowering herself down to look Laura in the eye. Derek took the other, staying close to Allison's side. It should have made her feel crowded, but instead she was just warm. 

"Don't worry, Allison." Laura pulled them in until they were all three close together, nearly hugging. "We'll take care of you, now."

**Author's Note:**

> Character Death: Kate Argent dies early in the fic. It's implied that the rest of the Hale Fire went as canon states.  
> Rape/Noncon Warning: Mildly dubious consent. Derek is tied up and technically prisoner  
> Underage: Allison is 17 at the time of banging, but her thought patterns feel younger due to having been away from people for so long.  
> Violence: The Hale Fire. Also a lot of rocks.


End file.
